Snowshoeing

As the four of us put on our snowshoes, I appreciated the cloudy day, cool air, and crisp crust covering about five inches of snow. A perfect day to snowshoe. There was no actual trail so we followed the leader as he made his way across the countryside, intent on a vista about three miles from the trailhead. 

Three miles of hiking on a well-worn trail is a whole lot easier than snowshoeing the same distance on snow, especially after the sun came out and softened the snow crust. I often sank into deep wet snow, making the snowshoe hike much harder than when we began. I was grateful when we stopped for lunch, resting while we enjoyed our camaraderie. 

When we started back, I began to feel a slight rub on my right heel but ignored it, keeping up with the others, sometimes clambering over fallen trees and rocks not immediately visible under the deep snow. We managed to avoid crossing a stream of melting snow. The slight rub on the back of my right heel was becoming a more noticeable pain. I ignored it. 

I hadn’t realized that the way to the vista was mostly down. Now the snowshoeing was much harder as we moved uphill in mushy snow. The spot on my heel was aching but I didn’t feel like dealing with it. I kept going despite the increasing pain but couldn’t keep up with the others. 

One man noticed I was moving more slowly and asked if anything was wrong. I shrugged and said I thought I might be getting a blister on my heal but I’d take care of it when we got to the car. 

I snowshoed as best I could until I finally got to the car. When I took off my snowshoes, I thought I’d wait until I got home to take care of whatever problem there was on my heel; The leader, who noticed how slowly I’d been moving on the way back, asked to see my foot.

More than a little embarrassed I took off my boot and sock. A huge blood blister on my heel.
“How in hell did you keep snowshoeing?” he asked, sounding annoyed and concerned.

“I didn’t feel like taking off my backpack, sitting down in the wet snow, taking off my boot and sock, then rummaging in my backpack for cream and a bandage. I decided to keep going.”

He chastised me. “Don’t ever do that again. If you feel a blister coming on, even if it means sitting in wet snow, take care of it while it’s small. What you have now is a mess that could have been avoided if you’d paid attention to what mattered. You won’t be able to hike for at least two weeks while it heals.”

When did you let something small become big because you didn’t feel like dealing with it?

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july 2025 stories